


if only the stars were close enough, we would paint them

by ProtoDan



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: (I love that that's a tag), Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, First Kiss, Lesbians in Space, Minor Violence, Pre-Relationship, use of Mando'a as petty rebellion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 15:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8538964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProtoDan/pseuds/ProtoDan
Summary: ' There's a sliver of home here, tucked away behind their little lockbox, painted with every color Ketsu could get her nimble hands on, or spilling from their tongues in hushed tones after dark. '





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mnemosyne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnemosyne/gifts).



> [This](https://doomtree.bandcamp.com/track/bolt-cutter) is the song from which the title comes. I can never resist naming fics after songs, it's a problem.

As one of its first acts to create a stronger fleet and standing army, the Empire picks through subdued and neutral systems and pools together groups of the children they think best suited to their cause--massive at first, then split into cells--to be made into its perfect soldiers. The first criterion is every able body they could steal off the planet's surface, then every able body who can aim a blaster worth a damn. Most of the pools shrink considerably at that split, but then, haven't Mandalorians always deigned to defy expectation?

The pool taken from the Mandalorian systems is one of the biggest the Empire has taken so far, and so it is split into the smallest factions. First by gender, then by age. Children young as twelve and as old as seventeen are marched through dozens of battle stations to be indoctrinated and trained.

Sabine is sixteen when they meet, with a head full of dreams of glory. She thinks, at first, that the Academy can make those dreams reality--that she will rocket through the ranks, become a great and decorated warrior, that she will make her ancestors proud.

At first, those dreams are swirling too loudly in Sabine's head for her to notice her fellow cadets outside of a surface assessment. There are two dozen in her troop, all just like her--all sixteen years old, all young women with fire in their eyes and in their hearts. Sabine could get used to their company, she thinks.

Their commanders run them through a gauntlet of tests, singling out the best performers already on their first day. Training lasts for six hours, with an hour's break for a midday meal that could, generously, be called "lunch", and another for an evening meal that some _might_ consider dinner, if pressed. (Sabine swallows the bland, overcooked mixture of "basic dietary necessities" on her platter and tries not to miss home.) 

Cadets are sent to their assigned quarters immediately after the evening meal, with lights-out scheduled two hours after. It gives Sabine time to acclimate, to make the few changes to the room that regulation allows. (She doesn't think of all the trinkets she left behind, of paint and clay and everything that made her home _home_.)

Her bunkmate is so quiet at first that for half an hour, Sabine is sure that she's alone. She sings to herself while she moves her things around--and when another voice joins the tune, Sabine nearly jumps out of her skin. 

Laughter fills the room, and Sabine turns on her heel to see a girl, lying on the top bunk with her arms folded behind her head, a grin crinkling her eyes. She turns her head almost languidly, violet eyes still sparkling with laughter even though her smile has faded. "That's an old tune," the girl remarks. "Traditionalist family, I take it?"

Well, if they're going to be living together, Sabine doesn't see much reason not to be friendly. "Very," she answers with an easy grin. "Mom kept to the old ways. I guess that included the lullabies she sang me as a kid."

The girl sits up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, propping her chin up on gloved knuckles. Sabine takes a quick second to get a good look at her, trying to use their commanders' standards to assess her as a fighter. The regulation under-armor doesn't leave a lot to the imagination--she's fit, with a build suited for running and feats of acrobatics. There's a dangerous spark in her eyes, and Sabine isn't sure what it burns for. Not yet, anyway.

"Mine too," the girl says. "Guess that's why we're here, huh? Not a lot of the so-called New Mandalorians are gonna be any good in the army. What's left of 'em, anyway."

Sabine gives a small laugh at that. "No kidding," she says, and really, what else can she say to that? Pacifists don't make for good soldiers; there's not much more discussion to be had than that.

"Name's Ketsu, by the way," the girl continues, holding out her free hand. 

Sabine grasps Ketsu's wrist, and Ketsu's strong grip squeezes hers in kind. "Sabine," she says.

Another wry grin crinkles Ketsu's eyes, and she nods. "Well met."

* * *

Ketsu is a force of nature, as Sabine quickly learns. She is a fire and a storm and it is _fascinating_  to watch her move. She fights with both grace and efficiency, at once a work of art and a machine. It's enthralling to watch, and Sabine finds herself taking mental notes on her techniques to try and improve her own. 

She's quiet during meals, violet eyes intent on the sludge in front of her. She eats without a word of complaint, even though her expression seems to say that it's the worst thing she's ever eaten in her life. Every so often, she'll contribute to whatever conversation goes on around her, tossing in an interjection in Mando'a. (Sabine doesn't think about how hearing her mother tongue makes a small part of her heart ache. She thinks, instead, of how smoothly the words flow from Ketsu's tongue.)

A captain walks by, eyes hard, and tells them to speak Basic, like _civilized_  people. It's the first time Sabine lets a seed of bitterness start to germinate in her spirit. 

From then on, in their quarters, they make a silent agreement never to speak Basic to one another in private. 

* * *

It's little things, at first. Ketsu notices Sabine etching patterns into her blasters (or making sculptures with her food, or re-styling her hair in such a way that it's only _barely_  regulation) and suddenly there are pens under her pillow when she returns to their quarters at night one day, a small can of paint the next. Sabine has no idea where Ketsu gets any of it, and she doesn't ask. She paints the walls behind their storage chest with faces and scenes from her childhood, and she lets the homesickness creep in. 

Ketsu joins her soon enough, adding her clan mark to the secret mural they keep. They talk and joke in Mando'a as they make art, Ketsu grinning all the while. Sabine hadn't noticed until now, but when Ketsu smiles, there are dimples in her otherwise smooth dark skin.

Sabine finds herself wondering where she can get violet paint.

* * *

They've been here seven months. Sabine isn't homesick (she never was). There's a sliver of home here, tucked away behind their little lockbox, painted with every color Ketsu could get her nimble hands on, or spilling from their tongues in hushed tones after dark. (Some of the others, she knows, have lost the words, forgotten under the pressure of the commanders to assimilate, accents smothered under perfect Imperial inflection. Before, she might not have questioned it. Now, it makes her sick.)

" _I'm leaving the Academy,_ " Ketsu says, so softly that Sabine nearly doesn't hear her over the hum of the station's engines. " _Tomorrow night._ "

Sabine stares. " _What?_ "

Ketsu stops painting, makeshift brush held still against the wall. " _This place makes me sick, Sabine. I can't stay here. They've taken good, honest children of Mandalore and they've turned them into nothing more than battle droids--just with blood in their veins instead of oil._ " 

Sabine is silent for a moment, thoughts roiling in her head. This is the first time that she recalls Ketsu ever mentioning defection--why tell her about it _now?_  Why run the risk that she would tell their commanding officers? " _Where will you go?_ " she asks, and though she knows no one can hear through their door, she speaks as quietly as she can, just in case.

" _Wherever the wind takes me,_ " Ketsu answers with a shrug. " _I'll figure it out once I'm gone._ "

Sabine could say anything. She could try and persuade Ketsu to stay, tell her how they could shape the galaxy together, or how she'll miss these nights, this feeling of home, or--

What she says instead is: " _I'm coming with you._ "

The room is dark, illuminated only by a small pen light that Sabine had smuggled in during a meal, but she could swear that Ketsu's grin lights it up like a burning sun. " _I was hoping you'd say that,_ " she says. She puts her brush down, holding out her hand. Without hesitation, Sabine grabs her wrist, and they hold on tight. " _Tomorrow night,_ " she says, " _we're going to take one of their ships, and we are going to go as far away from here as we can. Just you and me--we're gonna carve out our own little place in the galaxy._ "

Sabine's heart swells, and she grips Ketsu's arm just a little tighter. " _Oya_ ," she whispers, with every ounce of conviction she has.

" _Oya, cyar'ika_ ," Ketsu says, and Sabine would be lying to herself if she didn't admit that the way Ketsu winks makes her a little weak-kneed. After a moment, she lets go of Sabine's arm, glancing back at their little mural. " _We should sleep_ ," she says eventually. " _We'll need to be at the top of our game if we want to pull this off._ "

Sabine nods, and without another word, they start to clean their brushes and move the lockbox back into place. Ketsu climbs up onto her bunk, and Sabine hers, though she has no idea how she's going to sleep at all, now that thoughts of desertion are swimming through her brain. It's not as though anxieties are going to do her any good, she thinks, but if she's going to stay up thinking, she may as well put those thoughts to good use. 

For the rest of the night, until she's too tired to think, Sabine turns plans over in her head, ideas for how, exactly, they're going to get out of here. She imagines what it'll be like, just the two of them hurtling through space.

When she sleeps, she dreams of freedom.

* * *

Neither of them are at their best the next day--or, at least, that's what their commanders quip at the end of training. They both know better than to share any secret smiles while Imperial eyes are still on them, but Sabine revels in silent satisfaction, because she knows exactly why they've held back today. After all, they both need their energy for what's to come.

After evening meal, the two young women break from routine, walking through the halls of the Academy as if to stretch their legs, rather than go directly to their quarters. Sabine's heart pounds in her ears as the time grows closer and closer to curfew, but she doesn't let the nervousness show. She walks with her head high, confident in the knowledge that by the time the night ends, she'll be free.

They start to take more winding paths, treading lightly to avoid alerting the patrols maintaining curfew. Sabine realizes, after a few turns, that Ketsu has led them through all the halls with few--or no--security cams, and she wonders just how long she's been planning this escape.

"Left," Ketsu whispers, and Sabine follows with bated breath.

They pass through a long, narrow corridor, which opens up to the main hangar. The lights are dim over the small fleet of TIE fighters, and Sabine can only spot about half a dozen lightly-armored troopers pacing across the floor. She clenches her hands into fists, reminds herself that she and Ketsu are at the top of their class, that they can do this. Those half a dozen troopers are the only thing standing between them and open space.

"Now?" she whispers.

Ketsu pauses for a single beat, then nods. "Now."

It's the only warning she gives before sprinting, full tilt, towards one of the troopers, leaping in the air and striking him square between the eyes with the heel of her boot. Sabine hears his skull hit the back of his helmet with a muffled _thump_ , and he drops to the floor like a sack of rocks. She follows Ketsu's lead, bolting for another who'd been caught off-guard by the sound. Her body twists, one foot arcing through the air and catching him just under his jaw, knocking the air from his trachea. He's still gripping his throat when Sabine's knee strikes his diaphragm, and he falls just like his colleague.

To her left, Ketsu is caught in a fist-fight with another trooper whose strikes come almost hesitantly, as if he isn't sure he should be engaged in combat with a cadet. (Too bad for him.) Sabine runs in from behind, striking him with a swift kick to the spine, which knocks him just off-balance enough for Ketsu to jab him in the neck and knee him in the stomach. She tears off his helmet, elbow whipping forward to strike him across the temple. The other three troopers try to pincer them, but they go down just as quickly as their comrades.

There's a brief moment allowing the two of them to catch their breath, but they both know it can't last long. While they didn't hear any of the troopers call for help, someone will surely have seen what's happened on the security cams--which means that backup will be rushing in to apprehend them any minute now. Sabine steals a blaster from one of the fallen troopers and starts running for the nearest TIE; Ketsu follows at a sprint. While Sabine climbs into the cockpit to start up the engines, Ketsu makes quick work of the tethers keeping it docked.

Ketsu vaults into the cockpit just as more troopers rush into the hangar, and the hatch is closed by the time any of them so much as raise their blasters. Sabine lets out a whoop as the TIE's thrusters push it up into the air, and another as Ketsu takes control of the blasters to fire off a few warning shots. The troopers' moment of hesitation is all the TIE needs to turn and fly out of the hanger and into open space.

"We did it!" Sabine yells. "We did it!"

Behind her, Ketsu laughs, clapping Sabine on the shoulder. "C'mon, _cyar'ika_ , let's plot a course and get this bird as far away from here as quickly as possible."

"Sir, yes sir," Sabine says with a mock salute, the effect somewhat ruined by the broad grin on her face. 

"Once we're a safe distance," Ketsu continues, "we should find somewhere to land where we can safely ditch this TIE. The Empire's going to be after us now, and we don't wanna make it any easier for them to find us with a stolen ship."

"You got it."

* * *

After some deliberation, they opt to land on Concordia, in a valley a few klicks away from a small settlement--not big enough to be called a city, but enough to have a small spaceport. Their landing affords them some time to catch their breath, to revel in their triumph. 

"We made it," Ketsu breathes, staring out onto the horizon. 

Sabine grins as she peels out of her armor, gently elbowing Ketsu in the side. "It was your plan--did you not think we'd actually pull it off?"

"It's one thing to cook up a plan," Ketsu says with a laugh. "It's another to actually have it _work_." She glances at Sabine, eyes wide and brighter than Sabine's ever seen. A grin creases her eyes, and she takes a step forward, reaching out to take Sabine by both hands. "I'm glad I have you with me, Sabine," she says, her voice low and warm. 

"Glad to be here with you," Sabine answers, her heart stammering awkwardly in her ribs. 

There's a second's pause before Ketsu leans forward, and another--her face is inches away from Sabine's, close enough that Sabine can feel the warmth of her breath ghosting over her skin. It's a silent request, no bold statements, no jokes.

Sabine has no idea why the hell she'd ever want to say no. She moves forward, catching Ketsu's lips with her own, her eyes falling shut of their own accord. Ketsu's hands move, resting on either side of Sabine's neck, holding her close. 

It's clumsy--Sabine's never kissed anyone before, and she has no idea if Ketsu has either--with too much teeth and Ketsu's nose digging into Sabine's cheek, but neither of them care. Ketsu's lips are warm and soft, her hands gentle in contrast to the ferocity with which she fights, even as she clings. Sabine can feel her heart even between their clothes, and she's certain that Ketsu can feel hers too. It's a desperate kiss, all adrenaline and nervousness and excitement, and as the faint light of Mandalore sinks below the horizon, Sabine knows she wouldn't have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
>  _Oya_ \- Literally: "Let's hunt."  
>  _Cyar'ika_ \- "Darling, sweetheart"
> 
> This was a blast to write, honestly--and, as it happens, my first proper foray into writing/publishing Star Wars fic. How exciting!  
> To my recipient: I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it. Ret'urcye mhi.


End file.
